
Class ,. ? S3JQf 



Copight)^". 



9^a. 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSm 



Digitized by the Internet Archive 
in 2011 with funding from 
The Library of Congress 



http://www.archive.org/details/namelessherootheOOande 



THE NAMELESS HERO 



THE 



NAMELESS HERO 



And Other Poems 



BY 

JAMES BLYTHE ANDERSON 




NEW YORK 
A. WESSELS COMPANY 

1902 



COPYRIGHT, 1902, BY 
A. WESSELS COMPANY 



THE LiaRARY ®P 

OONGRESS, 
Two Copiee Recbveb 

FEB. 15 1902 

Cet^RIOHT ENTRY 

CLASS c\^ XXa No, 

1. y a -^^ 



UNIVERSITY PRESS • JOHN WILSON 
AND SON • CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A. 



TO MY FATHER 
These Poems are Lovingly Inscribed 



Contents 

Page 

The Nameless Hero i 

Lines 26 

Eclipse 28 

Arise and Be Glad 29 

Present 31 

A Ballade 32 

Home Returning 34 

To A Dear One 35 

It Thanketh Him 36 

Dear Silver Creek 37 

The Haunted Hermit 38 

Love Leadeth 47 

Come Quickly, Spring ! 48 

Rebecca O'Rear 49 

Go Softly Stealing 52 

Sherman's Heroic March 53 

vii 



Contents 

Page 

O Liberty, Reign ! 55 

Again a Boy 56 

A Cardinal 58 

God Will Guide Thee 59 

Queen Victoria's Death . . . ... . 62 

Time 63 

When Baby Came 65 

The Troubadour 67 

To Night 69 

Notes 70 



Vlll 



THE NAMELESS HERO 

SAD, O Missouri, sad as tolling knell 
The tales of blood and death thy chil- 
dren tell. 
Beloved land, my heart with grief is torn 
O'er ruthless wrongs by thee so nobly borne. 
The demon War has blown his fiery gale, 
Blasted thy uplands, blighted every vale. 
Where stood thy busy hamlet wolves may roam, 
And ruins where once rose the happy home. 

Fair were thy plains, sweet Marion, where 
befell 
A deed that makes the pitying bosom swell. 
Fair are thy streets. Palmyra, where was done — 
That deed so foul and dark a fiend might shun. 
Unrazed by bounding shot or sputtering brand 
Erect thou stood'st o'er smouldering, fuming land. 
Though stilled thy flames, yet endless blazing fires 
Forever burn in breasts of sons and sires. 
I I 



The Nameless Hero 



It was that year when General John McNeil,^ 
Led by a cruel and fanatic zeal, 
Resolved to make the poor Missourians feel 
The galling weight of the oppressor's heel ; 
It was when rallying at Lexington 
Missouri's sons a valiant victory won, 
Making the swarms of Northern foemen yield 
Before their charge upon the gory field — 
As some undeviating hurricane 
Of prairie-fire o'erspreading the dry plain j 
Fiercely up-leaping, see it surge along. 
Driving before the fiery-footed throng — 
So Price's host swept o'er the trembling land 
And put to flight the panic-stricken band. 
Then hies the ghoul, Acadia's beast of prey — • 
Seeking the fold when shepherd is away 
For Marion's verdant valleys lay afar 
From ghastly strife and ruinous rush of war. 

Ah ! who is he on foaming, reeking steed 
Rides up the street with almost frenzied speed, 
Pressing his bloody spurs full oft applied 
To his poor panting charger's quivering side ? 
'T is Andrew Allsman, ^ flying peril's reign, 

2 



The Nameless Hero 



Like wild coyote from bison's thundering train, 
Eager, when danger's flown, to be the tool 
To aid the General's stern, relentless rule. 
Now he draws rein in front of guarded tent 
Where prompt the Federal guard his challenge 

sent : 
" Admission quickly to the Chief I claim. 
Admittance promptly, in the Union's name." 
Spake thus the messenger — and then McNeil, 
" Ho ! What ! how goes it. Trusty, woe or weal ? 
Thy weighty tidings quick to me unfold ; 
Tell me the latest from these Rebels bold." 
" Ah, General, would I tales of joy might tell ! 
But tidings bring I desperate as hell. 
For Chieftain, know you that the battle's tide 
Again has set upon the Southern side." 
An evil gleam was in that look askance. 
And fierce despair lay ever in his glance — 
As when amid the thickest forest brake 
You watch the anguish of some wounded snake 
That twists and writhes and hisses in its pangs. 
And suffering, vainly shows its venomed fangs. 
" But two days since the foe, with fiendish yell. 
Upon our hosts so furiously fell 
3 



The Nameless Hero 



That with the volleys loud and sabre-stroke 
At last our serried ranks disordering broke : 
Never since Bull Run's bloody fight was fought 
Has there been such a sanguine havoc wrought." 
He ceased and on his master bent one look — 
No more than that his servile soul could brook. 
Oh, horrid was the scowl of wrath and hate 
That on his plotting leader's features sate ! 
Not like his vassal's face, revealing mind, 
Or giving play to devils that lurked behind ; 
But as the mad volcano's lava-tide, 
That rolls so fiery down the mountain side, 
While on the level broadening lands below 
Its boiling waves as ever fiercely flow. 
Ah, but they flow beneath a faithless crust 
Pledging a safety that we dare not trust ! 
So this bold man's deceptive mien. And now 
Although McNeil unbent his wrathful brow, 
With devilish joy his wicked glances gleam ; 
Revenge and murder are his wonted theme. 

The morning broke on Marlon's rosy plain 
Where tinted bud and blossom smiled again ; 
The morning broke, and touching street and spire, 
4 



The Nameless Hero 



Mantled them all in robes of living fire ; 
The morning broke, and all the winged throng 
Waked up, then forest rang with matin song. 
But scarce the purple east had paled away, 
Losing itself within the dazzling day, 
Than echoes now aroused to sound the strain 
Of sweetest melody over Marion's plain. 
More bright than twinkling dew on floweret wild 
The mirthful maiden that triumphant smiled ; 
Within the tints of dawn in vain you seek 
So deep a tinge as dyed her glowing cheek ; 
Even men could scarcely curb their pride and joy, 
And shouts break forth from many a careless boy. 
Wherefore this burst of bliss o'er vale and town 
That Blue-coat so resents with sullen frown ? 
It is the tidings come of victory grand 
Over invading hosts by Price's band. 

A year has flown away : each morrow's sun 
Has donned his regal robes his course to run. 
But ere dim twilight with its garment gray 
Had cast its pall upon this dying day. 
On many a merry heart a shadow fell 
That lingers still with its sad after-spell. 
5 



The Nameless Hero 



All the night through the quick and measured 

beat 
Of troops was heard upon the guarded street ; 
All the night through they marched, throng after 

throng, 
Conveying prisoners to the fortress strong ; 
All the night through the signal of assault 
Rang out by musket 'mid the sharp cry, " Halt ! " 
All the night through the soldiers, breathing low. 
Await with ready arms the approaching foe. 
But long ere morning, swift the news was spread 
Of Andrew Allsman — missing, taken, dead ! 
And when the new day dawned without attack 
They said the enemy had fallen back — 
Had fallen back who had not even advanced ! 
Guerillas bold on whom no eye had glanced. 

But see yon placard in the town's chief mart 
The eager citizens read — and shrink and start. 
And oh, how blanches cheek of passer-by 
When the sharp characters attract his eye ! 
Ah, yes ! well may your faltering wives grow pale ; 
Well may your mothers utter a low wail. 
Woe, woe to sire now from his children torn, 
6 



The Nameless Hero 



And woe to maiden who is left forlorn ; 
And woe to sad bride weeping in her charms, 
Her bridegroom wrested from her clinging arms.^ 
For here is ruin, murder, misery's dole 
In every mark and curve and line and scroll. 
Ha, who has there inscribed and made proclaim 
With pompous phrase — and in the Union's 

name — 
" That by unhallowed Marion's wicked strife 
A true man and a patriot lost his life? 
Or else a captive, reft by rebel hands. 
Unwilling bound in treason's loathed bands." 
McNeil then adds : " If at the third day's dawn 
No rumor of the Patriot that is gone. 
Then surely ten men's blood shall expiate 
This worthy Union martyr's barbarous fate." 

That building yonder, rising grim and still. 
Casting a gloomy shadow down the hill, 
A pile with grated bars and scowling wall, 
Tells plainly its dark tale of human thrall. 
All day and all the night there falls the sound 
Of sentry's tramp upon his ceaseless round. 
The slug is crushed by hundred feet and more : 
7 



The Nameless Hero 



Shut in that prison is a motley corps — 
Young men scarce twenty, veterans of four-score 
Cruelly crowded in the human cage, 
The locks of youth are pressed to those of age. 

And who are they, the weary, pleading throng 
Who sadly haunt this prison all day long ? 
By whom are all these loving dainties sent, 
Though never reaching their adored ones meant ? 
Ah, mothers, daughters, sisters, sweethearts, 

wives. 
Dark the horizon that engirds your lives ! 
The storm now gathering tendeth unto death. 
The rising gale bears blood upon its breath. 

And who is she whose heavy eyes like rain 
Shed woeful tears that fall on Marion's plain ? 
In vain her tristful features would I trace 
To find remembrance of a well-known face. 
Beside her comes a boy with golden hair, 
A tiny girl in arms, so sweet and fair. 
And oft she pauses in her deep distress. 
To give a mother's tender, fond caress. 
She seeks entreatingly access to gain. 



The Nameless Hero 



And weeps afresh to find entreaties vain. 
There 's mystic cadence in her plaintive tongue, 
Like half-heard notes of a forgotten song ; 
There is a softness in her downcast eyne, 
That carries thought back to love's sacred shrine. 

Sweet Helen Adair ! I remember her well ; 
She dwelt with her father in Cottonwood dell, 
In as lovely a valley as ever was seen, 
Hard by the green banks of the flowing Lamine. 
Ah ! rarely you light on so blithesome a pair 
As the Hero yet nameless and Helen Adair. 

It seems but a day since he stood by her side 
Where murmuring waters soft ripple and glide. 
Where faint flecks of light from the sun's 

golden sheen 
Flash bright from the bosom of flowing Lamine : 
Yet turned he from vision so passingly fair 
To gaze on the beauty of Helen Adair. 

Far-stretching beneath them rich verdure was 

spread 
With a green forest-canopy waving o'erhead. 
9 



The Nameless Hero 



The odorous grapevine all trailingly clung, 
And the clematis, white-fringed, in long festoons 

hung. 
Yet scarce for such vision one glance could he 

spare 
From the fairy-like beauty of Helen Adair. 

The jay gaily ruffled his wings in the breeze 
As he swept through the branches of lordly old 

trees. 
And the mocking-bird, joined by a wild choral 

throng. 
Poured out to the sunlight a flood of glad song : 
Yet less lovely those tones with their melody rare 
Than the low silvery voice of sweet Helen Adair. 

Sweet Helen Adair ! I remember her well ; 
She dwelt with her father in Cottonwood dell 
Where the wild roses smiled on the eglantine's 

bloom, 
And faint-blushing crab-apples breathed forth 

perfume ; 
Ah, well I remember that rippling gold hair — 
A crown of bright glory to Helen Adair. 



The Nameless Hero 



At last came a stranger, — ah, woe was the day ! — 
Who married sweet Helen and took her away. 
And she wept with the Hero, when lo ! they 

must part; 
" But a brother's place ever is thine in my heart." 
A brother's place only was all he held there; 
It was not so in hh heart for Helen Adair. 

A white rose she gave him with sorrowing sigh, 
As a sisterly pledge to remember her by. 
But a willow grew near with its branches quite low. 
Whence he secretly plucked fitter emblem of woe, 
A token concealed but treasured with care. 
Of long-blighted hope and sweet Helen Adair. 

Now sits she bewailing apart from the rest. 
She weeps and she sighs, she is bitter distressed, 
For her husband is pining in yon grim bastile, 
A prey to the vengeance of Tyrant McNeil. 

The day has now dawned undimmed in its glory — 
The day that will long be remembered in story; 
Not a cloud in the red east its homage to render 
To the sun as he rises in radiant splendor. 
II 



The Nameless Hero 



But in that gray building no faintest white 

gleam 
Of hope ever enters on morning's glad beam ; 
There reigns a black midnight of terror and 

gloom — 
Each mild ray of sunlight is signal of doom. 

No song of glad praise or aught else is heard there 
Save the deep wail of anguish, the moan of 

despair. 
Alas ! what is sunlight on woodland and glen 
To those who are fated to die with the ten ? 

But barken to the sound, as prison gray 
Glows warm in radiance of the new-born day ! 
With the first glance of the uprising sun 
Peals forth the fateful thundering signal gun. 
There is a stirring now within the wall, 
Of prisoners marshalled to the judgment hall 
To hear the names of chosen victims read, 
Whose souls, ere nightfall, shall be heavenward 

sped. 
The roll-call over, deep the silence then 
That fell, a deadly hush, o'er living men ! 

12 



The Nameless Hero 



So still it was it seemed as if the tomb 
Already gulfed them in its desperate gloom. 
Forward stepped Strachan,* provost of McNeil, 
Gazed round, then spoke in accents cold as steel : 
With swelling words proclaimed the time long past 
For hoping AUsman would return at last ; 
Therefore he would, in august presence, state 
Whose blood must now atone his cruel fate. 
Then from his bosom drew he a long scroll 
On which was writ in full the prisoners' roll, 
Each name inscribed in black on vellum fine, — 
But lo ! through some there ran a blood-red line. 
He called the ten forth, one by one, by name ; 
No sound, no murmur from the doomed men came, 
And scarce a cheek assumed a fainter hue, 
And scarce a man his breath more quickly drew. 
Suspense once ended, ends oppressive grief. 
For certainty alone brings some relief. 

Yet who can tell the dread fears that appall 
Those fond hearts throbbing now within the wall? 
And who, ah who, shall speak the dark despair 
That weighed down souls of loved ones standing 
there ? 

13 



The Nameless Hero 



Ah, well a-day ! sweet Helen, dost thou hear ? 
" O William," murmured she with failing breath, 
" O William, William ! " swooning as in death. 

There is an emerald glen that lovers know, 
Far from which the Mississippi's torrents flow : 
No lovelier, wilder view can one obtain 
In all the width and breadth of Marion's plain. 

It has a gentle slope on either hand 
Where lofty trees with twining branches stand, 
A glimpse of heaven amid the foliage there 
Is like a glimpse of hope through vistas fair. 

Within the dusky glen a tiny brook 
Goes gaily bickering in and out each nook ; 
Vale-lilies watch its waters as they run, 
And golden-rod points to the glowing sun. 

Upon the turf a mark may well be seen — 
A circle so distinct, of deeper green, 
Of deeper green in summer as in spring. 
And long ago was named " The Fairies' Ring." 

14 



The Nameless Hero 



How passing strange that this sequestered glen 
Should be so near unto the haunts of men. 
Yet is 't not stranger such a spot should be 
The scene of vile revenge and treachery ? 

But barken to those voices' distant hum, 
And barken to the roll of martial drum ; 
Closer and closer comes the sound of feet, 
Nearer the muffled drum's prophetic beat. 
Joined by the trumpet in that march so dread — 
With peal to summon, not to soothe the dead — 
Wailing its dirge on the clear morning air. 
Like dying cry of hope turned to despair. 
In mournful line did doomed prisoners come. 
Step keeping to the trumpet and the drum 
Each form erect, with dauntless, high-borne head, 
A firm step keeping to that march so dread. 
Beside them file the soldiers, two by two — 
A guard sufficient for the captive few ! 

And now the Acadian, in his pride of place, 
Stood forth exultant, hatred in his face. 
And with his brazen tongue and mien defied 
The ten whose hands so cruelly were tied. 
15 



The Nameless Hero 



In guileful terms with bitter phrases set, 
Canting he spoke, and told of the regret 
He felt at having to retaliate 
For Andrew AUsman's sad untimely fate ; 
When lo ! a rustling sound fell on his ear, 
A pleading voice that momently drew near. 
With startled look he turned and faced around 
To learn from whence it came — that sudden 

sound. 
He saw a tender woman make her way 
Between the close battalion's grim array, 
Flinging aside with desperate, mad force. 
The bayonets that barred her onward course. 

In sorrow bowed, the fond and weeping wife 
Besought McNeil to spare her husband's life. 
But when did serpent e'er his hold abate 
Upon the bird, for cries of fluttering mate ? 
Yet though each time repulsed with rude disdain, 
She, unabashed, renewed her plea again. 
And then a faltering voice came o'er the sod : 
'' Kneel not, my Helen, kneel but to thy God." 
Up went her hands her flushed face to conceal. 
Yet ceased not her wild prayer to hard McNeil. 
i6 



The Nameless Hero 



" Remove this woman," haughtily he cried ; 
" She troubles me, remove her from my side." 
No arm was raised his order to obey, 
Not one man moved to take the wife away. 
A new thought flashed upon his subtle soul. 
An awful wile that gave him fresh control : 
" Soldiers," said he, " and yoii civilians too, 
I grieve right earnestly for what I do ; 
Yet, in discharge of duty, 't is my lot 
To order all these Rebels to be shot. 
A Union man has suffered murder foul 
At hands of traitors that around us prowl. 
Now, should we, of the ten, one weakly spare, 
Who then will prophesy what next they dare ? 
And yet my heart would fain find some relief 
For this poor woman's overwhelming grief. 
And so though ten men's blood must expiate 
Our Federal martyr's sad pernicious fate 
Before high heaven I solemnly do swear 
I will this woman's husband freely spare, — 
Within one half hour will his doom abate 
If any one be found to bear his fate." 
Thus spake McNeil, and cast around a smile ; 
The soldiers all approve these words of guile. 
2 17 



The Nameless Hero 



Yet there was one, a man of valiant mould, 
Upon whose cheek a furtive tear-drop rolled. 
One instant only stayed it glistening there — 
Blame not the captive spouse of Helen fair ! 

Ah me ! the appointed hour is hurrying on, 
A little space, and surely it is gone ; 
Yet still there not a man to show his face. 
To suffer in the fated prisoner's place. 
O Friendship, Friendship, thou 'rt a glorious 

thing ! 
The patriot's praises, too, all ages sing ; 
Yet is there friend, howe'er to friendship true. 
For friendship's sake has given the breath he 

drew ? 
And few, yes few the men, however brave. 
That willingly have filled a patriot's grave. 
But, above all, who ever gave his life 
To save a husband for a weeping wife? 

Twelve minutes more the respite lingereth ! 
Hard beats his heart, and slow he draws his 
breath. 

i8 



The Nameless Hero 



Life is too sweet, and death is all too grim — 
Sure, there is no one who will die for him ! 

And now the men whose task it is to slay 
Confront the prisoners in dread array ; 
Now comes the last, last parting, awful, brief; 
A parting leaving naught but desolate grief. 
But who is this with such a lofty mien ? 
He crosses fleet the grassy meadow green, 
And just one swift compassionate look he threw 
Upon the stricken group which met his view ; 
Then with a haughty, bold, disdainful eye. 
Extends his hands and to McNeil says : " Tie ! " 
All eyes are turned upon the stranger's face. 
Upon that form of such commanding grace ; 
But the proud eagle glance, the scorching look 
Was more than even McNeil's seared soul could 

brook. 
" Who dares to brave us with a front so bold ? 
Thy name and mission, man, to us unfold ! 
If vengeance just thou seekest to evade 
Then fear my wrath ; it cannot well be stayed." 
" My name, McNeil, it boots thee not to hear, 
And I thy fiercest wrath do little fear. 
It is enough for thee, proud man, to know 
19 



The Nameless Hero 



That I Missourian am, so then thy foe. 
And for my mission, that is quickly sped ; 
I come to suffer in yon doomed man's stead." 
When he had spoke these words and taken breath 
He saw the Acadian turn pale as death. 
" Seize, seize the traitor ! " he in terror cried, 
" And be assured his hands are firmly tied ; 
For much I fear one of the desperate crew 
That war on us and on the Union too. 
Who knows but that he has a rescue planned 
By secret aid of predatory band ? 
Or it may be with bold assassin's art 
He seeks to send the steel to loyal heart." 
How mighty was the look of scorn serene 
That on the stranger's manly face was seen ! 
And oh ! how flashed his eyes with lofty pride 
When to McNeil he slowly thus replied : 
" General, in thee I had not thought to view 
A fiend so crafty and so valiant too. 
Calm, cruel Chieftain, gallant, grand, and fine, 
Fear not that I do harm to thee or thine ; 
Now, reassuring with an action strong, 
Again my hands I offer for the thong." 
Then on his wrists a cord they instant bound, 
20 



The Nameless Hero 



And drew its tightening circles round and round 
With such a brutal and demoniac force 
That the blood started all along its course. 
Yet he, unmoved, stood in his beauty there. 
With look sublime that only heroes bear ; 
Then turning, thus he spake to those around 
(Soft fell his accents, with a mournful sound) : 
" I see your tearful eyes that ask me why 
I venture for another man to die. 
So then, be this my answer briefly told, — 
Though life is sweet to me who am not old, 
Yet is it not too dear for Country's need. 
Nor all too precious for a Christian deed. 
No prostrate wife have I to moan my fate. 
No little darlings left disconsolate. 
I stand me all alone, nor part have I 
In woman's priceless love or filial tie. 
None, no not one, to weep when I am dead ; 
None, no not one, will grieve my spirit fled." 
He crossed the Fairies' Ring with quickened pace. 
Beckoning to William that he leave his place. 
William stood motionless ; he gazed around, 
Then on the stranger with his brave hands bound. 
" O noble, peerless youth," at last he cried 

21 



The Nameless Hero 



" Thou who to save another would' st have died, 

Think not that I to honor so am lost 

As to accept of life at such a cost. 

Live on ! for honor bright and fair renown 

Heroic life like thine must surely crown. 

So then, live on ! and if when I am dead, — " 

But no, the stranger slowly shook his head 

And turning quickly fell upon his heel. 

Again addressed the fell and dark McNeil : 

*' I am thy victim. Chief, in this man's room, 

And claim the place of his allotted doom." 

McNeil repents now of his hasty vow. 

And with an angry flush on swarthy brow, 

" Remove that man ! " in gruffest voice he said, 

" And let this braggadocio die instead ; 

For since the boaster is in love with death, 

I wot we soon can stop his bragging breath." 

His soldiers instantly the word obey; 

William unwillingly is led away. 

Then Provost-marshal Strachan, sword in 
hand. 
Stepped out imperious and gave command: 
" Our time is up, so let the men make clear 

22 



The Nameless Hero 



The ground at once, to do what brought us here." 
There on verdurous marge of thick-set wood 
The brave and tranquil ten awaiting stood ; 
Each man of them a hero was in truth, 
But greatest of the band the stately youth. 
There stood he like a tall majestic oak 
Which holds erect until the final stroke. 
There stands he with an ever peaceful air. 
While breezes fan caressingly his hair ; 
He looks once more upon the heavens fair. 
His lips he moves, yet silent falls his prayer — 
A holy blessing breathes for one who knows 
Of early blighted hope and treasured rose. 

But hearken to the roll of signal drum 
Proclaiming that the last sad moment 's come ! 
Oh, hear the sharp command and ringing sound 
Of muskets as they strike the grassy ground ! 
A moment more, and bright the sparkling sun 
Tipped in a garish light each levelled gun. 
And ah ! shut close your eyes while breath comes 

thick — 
There falls upon your ear an ominous click. 
And then — O God ! spare us that blinding flash, 
23 



The Nameless Hero 



That last command — and then the deafening 

crash ! 
Again, anon, reverberates the peal — 
Seven volleys are discharged by hearts of steel — ^ 
And when the heavy smoke is vv^reathed in air 
No man of all the ten is standing there. 
For on the glen they lie, those victims brave. 
Each ready for a martyr's hallowed grave j 
Each man a hero in his bloody pall. 
But yonder stranger greatest of them all. 

, The soldiers fall in line and still their hum, 
Returning to the place whence they had come. 
Marching with banner, bayonet and plume 
All flashing in the face of death and gloom ; 
Marching on merrily with well-trained feet. 
Marching in unison with the drum's quick beat. 
And thus in golden light of early day 
That gentle, noble spirit passed away 
To heaven, with the sweetly faint perfume 
Of springtime flower crushed in its radiant bloom. 

My tale is done, my story 's told 
Of murder foul, of martyr bold ; 
24 



The Nameless Hero 



Yet holds my harp its sad refrain 
As loth to leave its tragic strain. 
Harp of the South, thy numbers flow 
In accents sad and full of woe. 
And who invokes thy chord must deem 
That blood and death will be thy theme. 
Yes, blood and death and tears and sighs 
And women's wails and orphans' cries ; 
Yet ofttimes with a magic spell 
Exultant notes sublimely swell. 
And ofttimes too, with pride rebound 
Hearts Southern, as thy chords resound. 
With beating pulse for every strain 
That tells of noble patriots slain. 
That tells of the endurance brave 
Of those who fill a martyr's grave. 
And memory with triumphant peal 
Re-echoes at the name of Beall,^ 
Or chants in chastened mournful strain 
Of ten who died on Marion's plain. 
No costly tomb — a gentle swell 
Marks where the nameless Hero fell : 
Yet, no need here for sculptor's art — 
His memory 's graved on every heart. 
25 



Lines 



LINES 

Col. Frisby H. McCullough was murdered at Kirks- 
ville, Missouri, August 8th, 1862, by Gen. John McNeil. 

FAIR, O Missouri, deep thy rud 
Falling on Mississippi's flood. 
Sweet nestling vill in peaceful rest 
Reposing in a ravished breast, 
Ah such a deed as thy brow stains 
Curdles the blood in listener's veins ! 

Fair yonder upland. Sweet that mound 
With running roses trailing round ; 
The tender blossoms blowing there 
Show grieving hearts and loving care ; 
The cypress in that sacred spot 
Points that the sleeper 's not forgot j 
Is not forgot ! this patriot who 
Did die a dauntless martyr true; 
And yet, my tongue is loth to tell 
The deed of horror that befell. 
26 



Lines 

Could wreak my pen a pungent flame, 
Could be the fiend of lesser fame, — 
Perchance I might this act impart 
In fitting words with lighter heart. 
And in a minstrel strain reveal 
This hellish crime of John McNeil ! 




27 



Eclip 



se 



ECLIPSE 

THE weary sun is sinking, fades each 
lingering ray — 
The night is mildly mingling with the 
end of day ; 
A star is slyly glinting beneath a fleecy cloud, 
The moon is softly shining, innocently proud. 

The heedless breeze is romping headlong in its 

glee. 
The tiny rill is gurgling onward to the sea. 
But look ! the patient sentry stops his steady 

tread. 
And stands a-wondering, gazing with a lifted 

head. 

The moon so brightly shining, he sees to dim- 
ness fade. 

And now a darkness steahng, and now a thicker 
shade. 

Hear these accents falling from his trembling lips: 

" Life is everlasting. Death but its ecHpse." 
28 



Arise and Be Glad 



ARISE AND BE GLAD 

OH awake, you sluggard, awake and be 
glad, 
For God with beauty all nature has 
clad! 
No mist-wreath arises to dim with its fold 
The beams that are shedding their crimson and 

gold; 
Mildly glances each ray on plant and on flower, 
And diamonds of dew in myriads shower ; 
So arise, you sluggard, arise and be glad. 
For God with beauty all nature has clad. 

The bloom on the lily, the sheen on the trees 
Are brushed by the breath of morning's sweet 

breeze, 
And greeting the dawn is the babble of birds 
And the voice of deep welcome from far-lowing 

herds \ 

29 



Arise and Be Glad 



So arise, you sluggard, arise and be glad, 
For God with beauty all nature has clad. 

There is song of rejoicing — hear'st thou the 

faint quiver 
On the whispering tide of the deep-flowing river? 
Ah, fair is the morn ; with a song of glad praise 
Wakened nature rejoices in glad dawn's fair raysj 
So arise, you sluggard, arise and be glad, 
For God with beauty all nature has clad. 



30 



Present 



T 



PRESENT 

HE moon looks down to kiss the night 
And lovely is the mere, 
A star peeps down right through my 
sight 
To constant love's bright sphere. 



The soft winds winnow sweet and light — 
*' I love you, love you, dear ! " — 

The dew-drop trembled rare and bright — 
My darling answered, — " Here." 



31 



A Ballade 



A BALLADE 

WHEN roses strew the lap of May, 
And give their incense to the air, 
When songsters warble sweetly gay, 
Then joyous laughter everywhere ; 
But when the Winter cold and bare 
Lays snapping icy fingers tart — 
To shield thee from the biting snare 
Keep sunshine ever in thy heart ! 

When zephyrs kiss the budding day 
A-bursting forth so debonair. 
When merry chimes the brooklet's lay, 
Then joyous laughter everywhere ; 
But when the ragged lightnings glare, 
When rumbling tempests' thunders start — 
To guide thee through depressing care 
Keep sunshine ever in thy heart ! 
32 



A Ballade 

When friends are numbered as the spray 
That breaks on coral beaches fair, 
When lilies nod and bid thee stay, 
And joyous laughter 's everywhere, 
Nor less when first the starting tear 
Says riches go and friends depart — 
To lift thee upward from despair 
Keep sunshine ever in thy heart ! 

ENVOY 

Smiles now the earth like maiden rare ? 
Then joyous laughter everywhere. 
Would'st parry grief's destructive dart ? 
Keep sunshine ever in thy heart ! 



ZZ 



Home Returning 



HOME RETURNING 

'^ ■ ^ IS eve j the ploughman hastens to his 
I rest, 

■^ With heart like bubbles dancing near 

a shore; 
His loving spouse, with lusty darlings blest. 
He seeks at humble cot as oft before. 
In shady viny nook his open door. 
Where now she welcomes him so blithely home ; 
His heart rejoicing greets her o'er and o'er 
And beauty buds like blossoms in the loam — 
By far most brilliant star in all the sparkling 

dome. 



34 



To a Dear One 



TO A DEAR ONE 

FOR thee may laden South-winds breathe 
Incense from ocean's tropic isles ; 
For thee may quiet brooklets wreathe 
The mirror of thy tender smiles. 

Oh let the stately lilies fair, 

And roses, proudest of the flowers. 

Bend till they kiss the maiden-hair 

When thou dost walk within their bowers. 

Ye song-birds, trill your music wild, 

Ye fountains, dash your sparkling spray. 

Ye sunbeams, shed your radiance mild, 
A-making bright for her the day. 

And then at night, O voices sweet. 
Ring out the gentle chimes of sleep; 

Let heaven's angel hosts entreat 
The God of all, love's vigil keep. 
35 



It Thanketh Him 



IT THANKETH HIM 



T 



"^HE snow-bird trips about my door 
And trims its glossy wing, 
The icy down is sprinkling o'er 



This darling little thing. 

No sorrow swells its quiet breast 
In winter's sleet and snow, 

The frozen world can not molest 
Nor drop a flake of woe. 

With joy up-peeping at the cloud, 
Whilst picking crumbs, it sings 

Content to breathe its thanks aloud 
And trim its sheeny wings. 



36 



Dear Silver Creek 



DEAR SILVER CREEK 

DEAR Silver Creek, fantastic fairies skip 
Across thy dimples ; weeping willows 
drip 
Their dewy fringe along thy limpid breast ; 
The wind comes wheeling o'er thy cedared 
crest 
With crimson streams of day in rivalship. 

The drowsy lolling May-flies loitering sip 
With bees the buds that o'er thy margin dip, 
Like bubble beads, in dancing beauty drest, 
Dear Silver Creek ! 

So long ago, and far away, yet slip 
Sweet memories where thy lapping pebbles trip 
The bruised toes a-dallying with thy guest ; 
Oh happy days ! no longing nor unrest ; 
Bright memory bears thy ripples to my lip. 
Dear Silver Creek ! 
37 



The Haunted Hermit 



THE HAUNTED HERMIT 

A DOWN the dale by rippling rills 
And o'er the rifts of rocky hills, 
Through all the summer's sultry day 
Alone I wend a thoughtful way. 
I bend my steps with eager pace 
To yon enchanting mountain's base, 
Wreathed on its summit far above, 
A halo of eternal love, 
As lagging streamers of the sun 
All mirror bright The Blessed One. 
Nature invokes with myriad calls, 
'Mid varied voices darkness falls. 
And while I loiter at the spring 
I hear its purling waters sing. 
With rhythmic praise on leaps the brook. 
Threading the vale with curve and crook. 
Unwitting reel the tuneful words 
P>om thickets filled with thankful birds. 
The evening's murmurs all are blending, 
38 



The Haunted Hermit 



One grand Good-night, to God ascending. 

Then o'er me steals a gentle sleep 

Soft as the sighs when lovers weep ; 

From grayish blur to sable seems 

A transit sweet, with dawn of dreams. 

Low rumblings rise in far-off west 
Where black clouds hang on heaven's breast, 
Like islands dotting ocean's blue 
When distance turns to ebon hue. 
And through the fleeting shadows gray 
From marge of mountain cross the way 
While noise of summer ceaseless hums, 
With bending form a Hermit comes. 

Greeting his piercing, searching look, 
In friendliness his hand I shook. 
When thus he spake : " I wist, my son, 
A storm is gathering, hurrying on — 
I offer shelter to repose 
And nourishment at journey's close.'* 
Over his form a faded cloak — 
The garment of an ancient folk — 
Hanging adown in tattered folds 
39 



The Haunted Hermit 



Frail as the web a spider moulds. 
Scattered the breeze his grizzled beard, 
His ragged, grizzly breast appeared. 
His left arm shriveled, careless swings, 
Its sinews naught but flaccid strings. 
His right hand's bony fingers long 
Held firm a staff both stiff and strong ; 
His heavy tresses fell below 
His shoulders in a matted flow ; 
His piercing eyes were set beneath 
White, rugged brows as in a wreath. 

Far o'er the peaks, and plodding slow. 
With weary windings on we go 
Far up a cleft where whip-poor-will 
Pours out her song on echoes shrill ; 
The scream of panther, sough of wind. 
The shriek of eagle, wilding hind — 
All mingle in a dismal din. 
In darkness wrapped pale shadows thin. 
Wild shapes appear as from their lair. 
All hideous in the ghastly glare: 
The lurid sheets and zigzag streaks 
Of lightning blaze on bosky peaks. 
40 



The Haunted Hermit 



Here in a gorge the Hermit fell, 
But groping gained the cavern cell j 
His tinder finds, and with a flint 
He strikes a spark and lights his lint. 
The bats, in hiding from the storm, 
Dart out around the Hermit's form, 
And scattering sweep in circles wide ; 
Then startled dash from side to side : 
The gophers frolic round about. 
Now darting in, now darting out 
From fagots, 'gainst the smoke-stained wall 
The crickets caper, chirp and call : 
The ceilings' cones their clusters yoke 
And seem a phalanx in the smoke. 

How strange that scar upon his neck ! 
His cloak thrown off, appeared the fleck. 
No crucifix nor string of beads, 
No book of song or Saviour's deeds ; 
A hat, a wig, and dagger stern. 
Lay scattered on a couch of fern. 
And here we take our scanty food. 
Whilst out the storm's deep angry mood. 



41 



The Haunted Hermit 



The Hermit closer draws, and now 
I mark his wan and wrinkled brow. 
" Thus it is that I always live ; 
For years have been a fugitive. 
In nights of winter here I hug 
My fagot fire with shake and shrug. 
Then roves my mind in fancies wild — 
I see myself again a child — 
The snow beats fierce in gusts without, 
The wild winds moan or weirdly shout. 
But when the blossoms deck the trees 
And yield their sweetness to the bees, 
Then wander I afar and near 
And bask me in the sunbeams sheer. 
Look, look, my son, and note this mar- 
It is the everlasting scar 
That links my life with this deep dell, 
That houses me in dusky cell. 
This hat and dagger, weed and wig — 
I donned them oft when acting prig. 
And many times, as here I lie, 
I think of joy in days gone by ; 
But griefs more often break on me, 
Making my soul a stormy sea. 
42 



The Haunted Hermit 



The friend who shared with me my all 
Departed from me past recall ; 
So there is left not one to sigh 
And moan with me my misery." 

The tears up-welling, gush and roll 
Forth from the wretched Hermit's soul. 

" Hush ! What is that ? The bloodhound's 
bay ! 
Hist ! Closer — on my track ! Oh stay ! " 

But nothing save the Hermit's groan 
Pierced through the stormy tempest's moan. 

" There, John is coming now. Ah, dear. 
As natural as life — come here ! 
He is gone ! Yet he stood by me — 
Now, here — Gone, gone ! Good-night to thee ! 
A few more days and I join you, 
Sweet friend, so noble, brave, and true. 
I see him in the thickest fight. 
The Island Queen he now doth smite. 
— O God ! he falls within the night ! " 

A crash ! The lashing lightnings pale, 
Thunder a charge ; on leaps the gale. 
43 



The Haunted Hermit 



The fire now sputters scarcely blazing, 
The Hermit trims it, quiet gazing, 
Then on his withered elbow leans 
Whilst tangled hair his visage screens. 

" My friend betrayed," and then he said, 
'' Not even one dying spark ahead ; 
Canada's tempests sob and moan 
His requiem — his hope has flown. 
Who knocks ? How shakes his window-pane 
' Yes, come ! ' John calls and calls again. 
And when the door they hasty ope. 
With joy elate returns his hope ; 
For now, with laughing spirits gay. 
Once more he sees the Southern gray. 



" ' And if you come. Confederate, 
We deem ourselves most fortunate ? * 

" Black grew the darkness, wild the blow; 
Yet poor John to them longed to go 
So through the night — the shade for sin — 
He passed along — and then passed in. 
44 



The Haunted Hermit 



*' ' Now out with glasses, out with wine — 
A toast to Captain ere we dine.' " 
. The Hermit shrieks, " O God, he '11 die ! " 
Twisting his hair in agony. 
" Oh, treachery ! Yes, I ken it all — 
Drugged, drugged ! the very words appall. 
Look, look at them ! they rush, they strive ! 
Impostors foul ! On, on they drive ! 
Finished ! Unconscious on the ground 
He lies while sentry guards around. 
He moves, he tries to walk again — 
Oh, reave from him that ball and chain ! 

noble, sweetest friend of mine 

A Judas hurled thee cross the line." 

The storm now roars and wreaks its irej 

The Hermit pauses, heaps the fire. 

"John's life to save I would have given 

My all — yes, even my heart have riven. 

1 wept, I prayed he might be spared j 
I vowed he was beguiled ; I dared 
The fury of a nation's greed. 

" ' Go,' Lincoln said, ' assured Beall 's freed.' 
I left, rejoiced, and soon was sleeping. 
The sun came o'er the hill tops peeping 
45 



The Haunted Hermit 



And kissed John's cheek whilst I, deceived, 
Slept, lulled by lies I had believed. 

" Where am I ? Yes, I see — the Act ! 
Oh where, oh where that promised fact ? 
Oh where is he with loving grace — 
Look there ! My God, there 's Lincoln's face ! " 

Without the storm its fury waves, 
With sighs and moans and shrieks it raves. 

" Stop ! Those sunken eyes why haunt me ? 
Stop ! Those hollow cheeks why taunt me ? 
Demon devils o'er me gloat — 
Back ! My throat, oh loose my throat ! " 

How to save him, what can I ? 
The Hermit writhes in agony. 
King of Kings, oh heed his crying ! 
Help, O God ! the Hermit 's dying. 

List ! faint and fainter fades the roar, 
The storm is hushed forever more ; 
The mount is robed in russet beams 
By glinting gleams of truth through dreams.^ 



46 



Love Leadeth 



LOVE LEADETH 



nr 



HE shade on my life is falling, 
Ah, the twilight shadows creep ! 



"^ How pass through darkness appalling. 

How master the mountain steep ? 



Ah, the twilight shadows creep ! 
But Love now leadeth — I go 
Where a thousand shadows sweep 
To blot her delicate glow. 

But Love now leadeth — I go 
And pass through darkness appalling 
For bright is her delicate glow ; 
Her light on my life is falling. 



47 



Come ^ickfyy Spring! 



COME QUICKLY, SPRING 



H 



AIL, welcome birds ! exultant sing, 
And herald Spring advancing near ; 
The gladsome news to mortals bring, 



Our hopes to raise, our hearts to cheer. 

Come, dancing sunbeam, play and glance 
So noiseless, voiceless with thy glee ; 

Oh come, caress, coquet perchance. 
Nor vanish ere the blush can flee ! 

The earth will greet thy maiden kiss. 
And cloudless skies reflect thy love. 

And wordless songs and voiceless bliss 
Arise and fill the air above. 

Come quickly. Spring, disperse the gloom, 
Sweet messenger from God thou art; 

Come kiss the sleeping buds to bloom, 
Unfold the blossoms of the heart ! 
48 



Rebecca O'Rear 



REBECCA O'REAR 

WITH joy I revert to the beauty of yore, 
Turn back to the Elkhorn, the 
huge sycamore, 
The mill and the miller, the falls and the ford, 
The spray and the shallow attempting accord 
With the magical melody, ripplingly clear, 
Of my darling, my charmer, Rebecca O'Rear. 

The hum of the reaper, the ring of his scythe. 
With pipe of the partridge, come airy and blithe. 
The gloss of the martin with morn's rising glow 
In beauty outshineth the shade-covered crow. 
But rarer by far — there is not a compeer 
To thy shimmering ringlets, Rebecca O'Rear. 

The scent of the clover floats down from the hill. 
The trill of the thrush is sonorous and shrill 
To the far-away lark on the serpentine fence. 
Where ivy is running all matted and dense, 
4 49 



Rebecca O' Rear 



Oh, matchless the madrigal dropped on my ear, 
But sweetest of singers, Rebecca O'Rear ! 

The foam, scarcely kissed, gives a rush as to shun 
The ruddy kind grasp of the glorious sun. 
The oriole peers from the elm's bowing crest 
Unaware of the touch in its bright-tinted breast ; 
But milder, more tender, and trebly more dear 
Thy lithe waxen fingers, Rebecca O'Rear. 

The rain gently fallen on fallow and wood. 
The landscape bedecked with its sparkling new 

hood, 
The cloud in the west wears its corslet of gold, 
The bow in the east bears its diadem old, 
Yet rarer and fairer, I e'er shall revere. 
Thy enchanting brown eyes, sweet Rebecca 

O'Rear. 

Off westward the Elkhorn soft glimmering sped 

Engirding the land with a silvery thread ; 

The white-blossom dogwood leant out o'er its 

brink 
With bloom of the peach that was pearly and 

pink; 

50 



Rebecca O'Rear 



But brighter a blush that will ne'er disappear, — 
For it blows on the cheek of Rebecca O'Rear. 

The fish-hawk swooped downward, his wings 

newly pruned, 
With a shriek that was startling, so aptly attuned. 
The rain-crow cried loudly, foretelling the storm 
Yet the minnow was snatched from the river so 

warm. 
Oh flee to me, fair one ! and nothing 's to fear. 
My arm will protect thee, Rebecca O'Rear. 



SI 



Go Softly Stealing 



GO SOFTLY STEALING 

SWEET happy thought, go softly stealing, 
Where hope has sped, where hearts have 
bled, 
Where troubles are and phantoms dread j 
There kindly shed thy halo healing. 

Ah gently on, with joy revealing 
Thy balm within the bosom spread, 

Sweet happy thought, go softly stealing 

Where hope has sped, where hearts have bled. 

Nor dim thy light, nor cease appealing 
Till all the brooding night has fled. 
Till Hfe is bright and sorrow dead — 
Till then with mercy's tenderest feeling, 
Sweet happy thought, go softly stealing. 



52 



Sherman' s Heroic March 



SHERMAN'S HEROIC MARCH 

OH, captive of the South-land, slowly 
dying far from home. 
In dank and loathsome dungeon, 
frowning heartless, bleak, and cold ! 
No merry tattling brooklets gently laughing, leap 
and roam 
Through blushing morning-glories hugging 
roses on the wold ; 
No merry birds now twitter in the dingle, wood, 

and lea; 
No tender heart now hopeful, buoyant, happy, 

light, and free — 
The bold and noble General, he is marching to 
the sea ! 

Oh, fearless, hardy Southron in the raging 
battle's smoke ; 
Now breasting where Potomac's sanguine 
waters sadly roll; 



Sherman' s Heroic March 



Where piercing death's deep voices and the 
pounding sabre-stroke 
Are beating on the breastwork like an ocean 
on the mole ! 

Fair was thy happy hearthstone with thy romp- 
ing children's glee, 

But now gone, gone forever, and thy matron, 
weeping she — 

The bold and noble General, he is burning to 
the sea ! 

Ah, noble, brave, and dauntless Sherman, hearest 
thou the wail 
Of maid and mother and the tramp of devas- 
tation's train ; 
Or hearest helpless orphans on the homeless 
cheerless dale — 
With cherry blushes flecked ere wound in 
desolation's chain ; 
Or on the air the lilting flames a-tilting cap-a-pie ? 
The great and mighty General, O, ah me ! what 

heareth he ? 
That bold and noble General, he has marched 
beyond the sea ! 

54 



O Liberty, Reign 



O LIBERTY, REIGN! 

O LIBERTY ! divinest goddess, reign. 
Instilling justice as our nation's 
guide. 
Until the song-birds hush in their refrain, 
And sunlight fails o'er all this Union wide. 

Until the ocean's restless lashing tide 
Is lit by lapping flames on all the main, 
O Liberty ! divinest goddess, reign. 

Instilling justice as our nation's guide ! 

Until the angel hosts from heaven's pure fane 
Like stormy snow-flakes sweep this orbit's 
side ; 
Till heaven's astounding thunder rends in twain 

All princely powers that to oblivion glide, 
O Liberty ! divinest goddess, reign. 
Instilling justice as our nation's guide ! 
55 



Again a Boy 



AGAIN A BOY 

OVER the upland, down the hill, 
By the school-house, past the mill, 
To the wood my steps incline 
Where the beech the vines entwine. 

Mists of morning quiver round. 
Dancing weirdly o'er the ground 
As the ploughman, brown of hand. 
Gees and haws, and tills the land. 

There the blushing springtide holds 
Every bud and opes their folds. 
While the sweet May-apple bloom 
Sprinkles far its rich perfume. 

There the breeze beguiling sings 
Soothingly on rapid wings 
To the snowdrop's nodding head 
From its green and grassy bed. 
56 



Again a Boy 

There the robin sings away, 
Stops and bows to peeping day ; 
And the squirrel, shy of all. 
Gnaws a nut, then lets it fall. 

There the wren with tireless glee 
Flits about from tree to tree. 
As her young ones, loth to try, 
Flap their wings and learn to fly. 

There the brook, so sparkling gay. 
Leaps and laughs the livelong day. 
While the swallows twittering dip 
Where the oxen come to sip. 

All have flown, yet there is joy — 

I again am truant boy, 

Loitering where the beechwood shades 

Draw my sight, and sorrow fades ; 

Am again beneath the tree, 

Happy as I used to be. 



57 



A Cardinal 



H 



A CARDINAL 

IGH o'er the tips of yon cedars, a 
cardinal chants through his dream, 
Bright like the rosy-tipped ripple that 
vanishes away in a gleam. 



Bard full of sweetness and fleetness, uplift every 

heart of earth's throng 
Sing for the souls here in darkness, oh sing, with 

a passionate song ! 

Breathe on the moan of the cedars thy carol from 

glory and ease, 
Pilot for all, the dark river to rest with the 

Giver of these. 



58 



God will Guide Thee 



GOD WILL GUIDE THEE 



T 



HROUGH a deep and rugged hollow 
Flows a rill in dimpled play, 
Babbling as I pensive follow 
Where it winds its course away. 



Laughing, leaping, slipping, sliding 
Onward with a rushing tide. 

To the Schuylkill downward gliding, 
Joining it with hurrying stride. 

Listen as its water gathers. 
Gaily flowing swift along. 

Telling of the faithful Fathers, 
Clearly warbling sweet its song. 

" Here it was, in dead of winter. 
Here it was, those sires of thine 

Suffering plucked the icy splinter 
From the frozen mountain pine. 
59 



God will Guide Thee 



" Here it was, beside the river, 
Warming scarce their bloody feet, 

Sons and sires did quake and shiver, 
Patient yet with naught to eat. 

" Here it was in time grown olden. 
Dying mingled with the dead ; 

Hope the living did embolden 
Still to struggle, naught to dread. 

" Here I saw the Prince of Darkness, 
And the Angel clothed in Light 

Both contesting in their starkness 
O'er the souls that took their flight. 

" Here I saw them weary, falling, 
Dropping, dropping, one by one; 

Then I heard the Angel calling — 
Praising great deeds they had done. 

*' Here God's help was freely given 
In the fight at Valley Forge ; 

God the Spanish power has riven, 
He reproved the Tyrant George, 
60 



God will Guide Thee 



*' Heed and profit, faltering stranger, 
Hear a lesson thou should'st know 

God will shelter from the danger 
When the raging tempests blow. 

" Freedom's holy banner, praise it — 
Onward ever, never pause ; 

God is with it ; boldly raise it — 
Let it wave in Freedom's cause ! " 



6i 



^een Victoria's Death 



QUEEN VICTORIA'S DEATH 

O'ERWHELMING darkness gathers 
like a pall ; 
Deep in the brimming heart a sombre 
knell, 
And deep the pulsing cadences that tell 
The story of the sorrow over all. 
And now the bugles sound their piercing call, 
That rouses not the nation from the spell; 
And now the rolling organ-anthems swell, 
And speak the grief of cottage and of hall : 

O England, sad thy voice as sighing waters ! 

O mighty Mother of our mighty land. 
Our grief is grief of loving sons and daughters : 

We send it loyally from this far strand : 
Love's victory is worth a thousand slaughters — 

In heartfelt sympathy we press thy hand ! 



62 



Time 



TIME 

IT comes with the dusk and the rose-tinted 
dawn, 
It comes with the dew-drop on forest and 
lawn, 
It comes, will not loiter — ah, now it is gone ! 
With swiftness of eagle affrighted to flight, 
It stops not for sunshine nor darkness of night. 

Is first at the cradle, is first at the bier, 
From second to minute, from day unto year, 
It leaps ever onward, it bounds like a deer j 
It steppeth not backward, but forward must march 
To infinity's borders, to heaven's bright arch. 

It grasps all — the infant and tottering age. 
The fool, the pretender, the learned, the sage. 
All moulder and vanish like some ancient page. 
Aye, flowers of the springtime — all beauty 

sublime 
Must wither and crumble and fade before Time. 
63 



Time 

O Time, unrelenting controller of all, 
Before thy keen scythe even vanities fall. 
Possessor of griefs and joys great and small, 
Stretch out thy stern hand ever nearer the goal, 
Take my poor body, but touch not the Soul ! 



64 



When Baby Came 



J 



WHEN BABY CAME 

OY filled my heart when baby came — 
Ah, will he divide his mother's place ? 
How can I love them both the same ? 



As softly coos a dove, the dame 

Crooned joyous, and bliss lit up her face j 
Joy filled my heart when baby came. 

My bosom swells like leaping flame — 
Her image and mine in him I trace j 
How can I love them both the same ? 

The tender mother breathes his name — 

The name of my father — with sweetest grace; 
Joy filled my heart when baby came. 

And you who cavil, prate, or blame, 

I pray you withhold your wry grimace — 
How can I love them both the same ? 
5 65 



When Baby Came 



Here is no rivalry or shame — 

I fold both the darlings in one embrace ; 
Yes, I can love them both the same ! 
Joy filled my heart when baby came. 



66 



LoFC. 



The Troubadour 



THE TROUBADOUR 

THE Troubadour sleepeth, his harp is 
unstrung, 
For death, the cold-hearted, the adder, 
has stung. 
His fingers so nimble have crumbled to dust. 
His bright sword and helmet are cankered by rust. 
The song that was sweetest has failed from his 

tongue 
And Troubadour sleepeth, his harp is unstrung. 

The river may sing in the dance of the sun 
And mocking-bird chant to the numbers that run; 
The peasant may carol of freedom from care. 
Of the wife who is comely and child who is fair ; 
The maiden may warble of lover so bold. 
Whose hand and whose heart were like Paris of 

old; 
But the song that is sweetest can never be sung — 
The Troubadour sleepeth, his harp is unstrung. 
67 



The Troubadour 



O lips, why not lisp it, O voices, impart 

The song that is sweetest from depth of the 

heart ? 
O fingers so nimble, why touch not the strings 
Of the harp that is silent for joy which it brings ? 
Let the song that is sweetest in rapture be flung — 
But Troubadour sleepeth, his harp is unstrung. 



68 



To Night 



TO NIGHT 

O GENTLE messenger of peace, all hail ! 
Unwittingly art thou the cloak of 
sin — 
All hail ! Thou bring'st the close of clanging 
din : 
And weary warriors fling aside their mail. 
At thy approach the toiler rests his flail, 

And labor greets thy robes and creepeth in, 
And haughty matrons, proudest of their kin. 
Appeal to thee to soothe their infants' wail. 

O King of Slumber, come with kindly kiss ! 
Like eagle sweeping on his pinions bright 
Spread far thy shadowy mantle, and let fall 
Upon our drowsing eyes thy softest bliss. 

Both prince and peasant own thy gracious 
might — 
Hail Monarch Night, dear Rest-bringer to 
all! 

69 



NOTES 

THE NAMELESS HERO 

^ John McNeil, born in Halifax, Nova Scotia, 
February 4th, 18 13. Of limited education. In 
Boston, Mass., learned the trade of a hatter. Died 
at St. Louis, Missouri, in or about 1887. 

^ Andrew Allsman, of Marion County, Missouri, 
was employed by McNeil to inform on and lead 
Federal soldiers to the homes of his neighbors. Alls- 
man was captured by Col. Joseph C. Porter, but 
released, though afterwards thought to have been shot 
by Porter's men. 

" Captain Thomas A. Sidenor, of Monroe County, 
Missouri, and nine others, Willis J. Baker, Thomas 
Humston, John M. Wade, Morgan Bixler, Eleazar 
Lake, John Y. McPheeters, Herbert Hudson, Marion 

Lair, and , were shot at Palmyra, October 

1 8th, 1 862, by order of General John McNeil. Cap- 
tain Sidenor was a gallant officer under General Sterling 
Price at the battle of Wilson's Creek and elsewhere. 
In preparing for death he recalled to mind the three 
70 



Notes 

hundred Spartans under Leonidas, at the Pass of 
Thermopylse. In his wedding suit, his hair falling in 
ringlets over his shoulders, his hand over his heart, 
where a beautiful young woman was soon to have 
rested as his bride, he called to the executioners : 
** Aim here, please." 

^ William R. Strachan was court-marshaled at St. 
Louis, Missouri, January, 1864, for embezzlement 
and rape, committed while he was provost-marshal 
at Palmyra. He was sentenced to imprisonment but 
released by General Rosecrans. He died in New 
Orleans, with the request that his tombstone should 
bear the inscription : 

" William R. Strachan ; born in New York ; died 
in New Orleans, February loth, 1866. The Union 
is preserved, and I die contented." 

^ "Ready, aim, fire!" An irregular volley — 
only three killed. Morgan Bixler was not hit, but 
fell forward. Six men were mangled. The sight 
of the struggling, moaning victims was sickening. 
The reserves then stepped forward, discharging their 
revolvers into the writhing bodies. Willis J. Baker, 
seven times pierced, died last of all. 

^ Captain John Yates Beall, the friend and college 
mate of J. Wilkes Booth, was born January ist, 1835, 
71 



Notes 

in the valley of the Shenandoah, and educated at the 
University of Virginia. He endeavored to liberate 
three thousand countrymen incarcerated at Johnson's 
Island, but failed, owing to a mutiny of his men. In 
escaping to Canada he was compelled to take and sink 
the Island Queen. Afterwards captured and hanged 
February 24th, 1865. To Fern Hill, in Greenwood, 
we might, as does the Author of his Memoir, point 
and say: "There lies a man who espoused a great 
principle ; who wrought for Hberty when God himself 
seemed dumb ; there a soldier who bears upon his 
breast the insignia of honor ; who fought and fell at 
Harper's Ferry, pierced by a minie ball ; who marched 
through the Shenandoah in Stonewall Jackson's im- 
mortal First Brigade ; there a prisoner who, though 
chained at Fort Lafayette, embraced the manacles as 
badges of honor ; there a patriot who died in the 
service and defense of his country ; there a philosopher 
pronouncing death a ' mere muscular eiFort ; ' there 
a Christian who, under sentence he believed to be 
unrighteous, and its execution murder, wrote his 
brother : ' Vengeance is mine saith the Lord ; I will 
repay.' Therefore do not be unkind to prisoners ; 
they are helpless." 



72 



Notes 

The author feels that it becomes him to crave the 
reader's generous indulgence, for whatever interest 
might attach to the publication must be due less to 
any intrinsic merit than to the exciting incidents upon 
which it is founded. It is for the most part a faithful 
narrative, with facts omitted too horrible for relation. 

Following the traces suggested by an old manuscript 
account, the writer made a visit to Palmyra, Marion 
County, Missouri, and sought personal interviews with 
many of the old citizens who were eye-witnesses of 
the terrible deeds of 1862. These recollections have 
supplied the materials of the poem. He hopes it may 
help to perpetuate the memory of Hiram T. Smith, 
Whose life was not too dear for Country's need. 
And not too precious for a Christian deed. 



73 



'^v. 



ra 15 1902 

1 COPY DEL. TO CAT. 0!V. 
FEB. i5 J 902 



FEB. 20 1902 



